Mosaic
by the-human-error
Summary: Ibiki has been missing his physicals. Sakura is pissed. SakuraIbiki


Disclaimer: Do not own.

This story (or start of a story?) is dedicated to **TheRoseandtheDagger** to make up for the fact that Hindsight is NOT Saku-biki.

Hopefully it will keep ya entertained for a bit.

AAA

Sakura sighed, stretching her aching shoulders, and flopped onto her bed.

She was exhausted, but happy.

Although she found herself scheduled in at the hospital for thirteen hour shifts five times a week – one of which she'd just finished – she took solace in the fact that she was irreplaceable. The once worthless girl had become the _top_ medic nin, surpassing her master, and with no other contender's coming close.

She out-ranked every doctor, and oversaw both the training regimes for any and all medics, as well as every ANBU who walked through the hospital doors.

Not to mention those on her short-list, ie: her team, the Konoha 11 and their sensei's as well as her personal friends. And as they knew her schedule, sometimes they'd just drop by her apartment for treatment. She'd fully decked it out, due to Kakashi's stubborn refusal to stay in the hospital long enough to be treated.

But right now, the only thing that was on her mind was sleep.

_TAP TAP TAP!_

"Whdywnt," was her muffled response, as she remained motionless, face down in her pillows.

_TAP TAP TAP!_

She rolled over and stared at the figure crouched outside her windowsill.

Letting out a sigh, she heaved herself up and let him in.

Shrugging off his black trench coat, and flinging it over her chair he sat on her bed and took off one of his gloves.

"Make yourself at home, why don't you," the pinkette said sarcastically, but they both knew there was no bite behind her words. She took his scarred hand in hers, and started scanning it for injury.

"It just started seizing up on me," the large man shrugged. "Hasn't happened for years, but it's starting to spasm again."

"You've been doing a lot of paper work recently," Sakura guessed, and he confirmed it. "It's all the repetitive movements. You gotta take breaks, do other things. Or make Anko do it."

He let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. She started massaging his palm, pumping chakra gently into it. Immediately, she felt the muscles start to relax.

"She'll _love_ you when I tell her that was your idea," he grinned.

"Well, when she comes after me I'll at least know you followed my advice," she pouted at him. "For once."

"I don't know what you're talking about, kitten," his grin didn't falter. "I always listen to your advice."

"Right before disregarding it," she snorted. "You have to look after old wounds like these, Ibiki. If you'd just let me schedule you in for-"

"I don't have enough time for surgery," Ibiki winced as she hit a particularly tender spot. "We're-"

"Really busy at the moment," she shot him a dirty look. "You always say that."

"It's true," he answered her blandly. "We're understaffed."

"Yet you still find time to bother me for physical therapy," Sakura frowned. "Last week it was your leg, the week before it was your shoulder – and don't even get me started on your skull!"

"I'm getting old," he retorted tiredly.

"This isn't _from_ old age, you jerk," her expression intensified. "It's from wilful neglect. Besides, you're what, thirty five? You shouldn't have problems like this until you're eighty!"

"Has anyone told you that you have a charming bedside manner?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, it's _my_ bed you're sitting on," she pointed out moodily. "One that I'd like to be _in_, since I've been working straight for thirteen hours. But _no._ Instead I have to do some completely _unnecessary_ healing because you're too _pigheaded_ to look after yourself."

"Well, it was either come and get it fixed now, or wait until tomorrow morning and face your wrath for putting it off," he pointed out mildly.

"Or go to the hospital."

"You're my medic."

"This is an easy enough exercise. Ino-pig could do it. She's there right now."

"Yamanaka isn't my medic."

"Why don't you like her? You get along with her Dad alright," Sakura gave him a curious glance.

"I don't dislike her," Ibiki blinked. "But you're my medic. You're familiar with me. You don't shit your pants when I walk in the room. _She_ would be so nervous she might make a mistake."

Sakura giggled a little, moving her thumbs to his wrist.

"So I'm the best by default, huh?" she asked, her lips quirking.

"No, you're just the best," Ibiki assured her. "Full stop."

"You're looking for a favour, aren't you?" Sakura accused.

Ibiki raised a brow at her.

"Not a favour, as such."

"Then what?"

"A request."

"For?"

"A date."

Sakura paused, and stared at him critically.

"Anko's bothering you again."

"More or less," he laughed.

"I'll think about it."

Dropping her eyes back to his hand, she flipped it over and started working on the other side.

It was odd, their friendship. She couldn't even really pinpoint where it had started.

Back during her first attempt at the chunin exams he'd both intimidated and impressed her. She in turn, unknown to her, had peaked Ibiki's interest as the only genin to be able to answer every question without cheating.

And although Ibiki kept an eye on her from a distance, much like he did with any other people of note – and particularly so, since she was on the infamous Team Seven – but he effectively disappeared off her radar for a long time. She saw him briefly at the end of their mission to protect Idate, as he turned up on the ferry to escourt an injured Sasuke home. Although she was a little nervous around the stoic man, she had approached him nevertheless.

She hoisted herself up onto the railing next to him, and ignored his curious glance in favour of staring out at the vast ocean ahead.

"I totally could have become your sister-in-law, you know," she said, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Is that right?" he replied blandly.

"Yeah," she glanced at him briefly out of the corner of her eyes, but his face didn't betray his thoughts. "First time I met your jerk of a brother, was by chance in this quaint little tea house. He walked right up and told me I should give up my life as a ninja and become his cute little wife... Right before disappearing and leaving us with his bill."

"Still up to his brat-like antics then," the older man's lips twitched.

"Yeah," she smiled, relaxing a little. "He got off on a bad start with Naruto. Didn't want to be guarded by us. He didn't even tell us his plan about taking an alternate route, just ran off without a word and we had to take chase. It was a pretty clever move, though. He took the weather into account and found the spot where the wind would take the boat on a swifter passage. He'd set it up with a fisherman beforehand – he seems to be really popular where he is. Everyone likes him."

"Including you?" Ibiki raised an eyebrow at her. "What is this? Are you trying to get my permission to date my brother or something?"

"No," she laughed at the thought. "No offense, but he's not my type."

Her eyes were drawn immediately back to Sasuke.

"Then may I ask what you're talking to me for?" Ibiki asked bluntly.

"I figured you might like to know what your otouto has been up to," she shrugged. "I won't talk about him any more once we land. I know it must be dangerous for him, even bearing your name."

"Smart girl," he commented gruffly. "Don't worry about him, though. He'll be alright in Tea country. Ninja rarely come through, so it's unlikely he'll be discovered."

She nodded.

"He wanted to keep in contact with me," she said after a while. "He'll be using a pseudonym, obviously. I wanted to ask if you'd like to be kept updated on what he's up to? He... he asked if I could let him know in my replies that you were alive at least, even though I wouldn't be able to say much else."

Ibiki was silent.

"He cares about you, you know," Sakura said quietly.

"I'd appreciate that," he answered finally. "But keep it quiet. If you get him into any trouble, you will live to regret it."

"You know, I've never understood that threat," Sakura said idly, inspecting her nails. "You'll _live_ to regret it. It implies that I'll survive, so... what?"

Ibiki laughed loudly, startling Sakura's teammates, who were on the other side of the deck. They stared, bewildered, wondering what the heck Sakura was doing talking to the scary man.

"You've got a lot of nerve, girl," Ibiki smirked at her. "Perhaps I should remind you that I'm the Head of Torture and Interrogation. The emphasis should be put on _regret_ and not _live_. You may survive, but you won't recover."

Sakura pouted.

"Thanks for the correction and all," she turned her puppy-dog eyes on him. "But should you really be talking to the person doing you a favour like that?"

"A headstrong young genin," Ibiki retorted. "Perhaps it's necessary. If you don't learn to be wary now, you might end up getting yourself killed."

"Of course," Sakura nodded seriously. "I should have known! You're only threatening me for my own good! My safety and overall wellbeing is your first priority, after all! It should have been obvious from the way you threatened me with irreparable damage! Why didn't I see it sooner!"

He just smirked at her, and her expression softened. He wasn't so bad after all.

"Ne... Sakura-chan," Naruto edged towards her nervously. "What're you talking to the scary giant for?"

Ibiki's expression turned evil, as he towered over the young jinchuuriki.

"You have perfect timing, Naruto-kun," she smiled wickedly at him, her voice sickly sweet. "I was just enquiring about a future in the Torture and Interrogation department, but Morino-sama says I need more practice. Perhaps you can help me out with that?"

He gulped as she cracked her knuckles, and barely skidded out of the way as she leapt after him.

"Sa-Sakura-chan!" he cried, as she chased him all over the boat.

Finally, she tackled him, and she pinned him down.

"I sentence you to death by tickling!" she announced, doing just that as Naruto shrieked and squirmed beneath her.

Ibiki had watched them in subdued amusement, shaking his head.

"What interesting kids," he'd muttered to himself.

They didn't have much contact after that.

Idate's letters averaged at one every three months, and Sakura – after reading them herself – passed them on to Ibiki in a sealed folder. As Tsunade's aide, alongside Shizune, it was easy for her to slip in her extra folder, unnoticed by all.

She labelled it "Budget Rebate Forms" each time, figuring nobody would even _want_ to pry into such a boring sounding folder. Ibiki, in kind, returned them in an equally boring titled "Supply Requisition Forms" folder, which was never _once_ tampered with.

The irony of it didn't pass either of them.

When Sasuke left, and her world crashed down, he even dropped by her house to check on her. She was shocked to see him, to say the least – as was her mother, who was terrified at why he was even there. Everyone knew his reputation, after all.

"You can't have my Sakura!" he mother had cried desperately, shoving Sakura behind her. "What happened with Sasuke-kun had nothing to do with her! She hasn't done anything wrong!"

"I'm not here to interrogate her, Haruno-san," he had replied in a bored tone, as Sakura peeked out from behind her mother. He wasn't surprised to see her eyes were red rimmed.

"Then what do you want?" the older woman demanded, trembling.

"Mum, don't be so rude," Sakura chastised in embarrassment. "Morino-san, what can I do for you?"

His eyes flicked between mother and daughter.

"Sakura-san, if you are not otherwise engaged, would you walk with me?" he requested politely.

"NO!" her mother cried, gripping her child in terror.

"Mum!" she picked her claw like hands off her arms. "I know Morino-san's reputation, but if he says he isn't here to interrogate me, then he isn't here to interrogate me. We're colleagues. I'll be fine."

After calming her hysterical mother down, she turned back to the stoic man, who was waiting for her answer.

"Of course I'll go with you," she bowed politely. "Please wait for a second while I grab my shoes. Have a seat."

He obeyed, sitting opposite Sakura's mother, who was still beside herself in panic, although it was a little more contained.

Within seconds, the pinkette was back, ready to go, and Ibiki led her up towards Hokage Mountain.

They didn't stop until they were inside the Third's head, staring out through his eyes at their village. She sat down on the park bench and looked up at his towering frame.

"Why'd you come?" she asked eventually.

"You're a good kid," he shrugged. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

He pulled a package out of his coat pocket, and dropped it into her lap. She opened it, and gave him a curious look.

"Dango?"

"I hear women deal with grief and depression through sweet things," he shrugged, and she gave an amused huff, her eyes tearing up once more.

"Do... Do you think there was anything else I could have done?" she asked, her voice weak.

"I doubt it," the older man turned away and looked out once again towards Konoha. "Sasuke-kun didn't seem like the type to let others change his mind."

She sighed. In a way, he was right.

"We're going to bring him back," she said after a while.

Ibiki looked over his shoulder at her. Now wasn't the time to tell her that might never happen.

So he nodded briskly.

She took a bite out of the dango he'd given her, enjoying the chewy sweet treat, and felt a tiny bit better.

After that day, Sakura threw herself into training and once again all but forgot her high-ranking friend, except for when Idate's letters came, or the odd occasion they'd pass each other in the Hokage Tower.

It wasn't until Sakura received her promotion and became the official medic for ANBU that they started having more regular contact.

She had read his file before she saw him, and was struck by the detailed and detached descriptions of each and every injury he had received. And they were both numerous and horrific.

She began to understand why he was always so covered, down to his gloves, even on the hottest days. She had seen his horrific scalp during the chunin exams, but by the looks of it his body was littered with similar scars. She shouldn't have been surprised. And deep down, she wasn't, really. But she was still upset.

And not because he had endured thus far – well, maybe a little. But mostly, she was upset that it seemed he'd missed his last six physicals.

And it seemed that none of the medics that would otherwise be qualified to perform the checkouts bothered to chase him up about it. Or perhaps they were too scared.

Either way, she was annoyed.

She scheduled him in three times, and three times he ignored the summons. In the end, she had to resort to drastic measures, which was why one Morino Ibiki found himself smirking in amusement at the letter in his hands.

He had opened up the freshly delivered folder labelled 'Budget Rebate Forms' expecting to find a letter from his brother, as per usual, but instead was left staring at a grumpy missive.

_Morino-san,_

_I am holding your 'Rebate Forms' hostage until you come in for your physical._

_You're booked in for 3pm on the 5__th__._

_-Sakura Haruno._

_Ps: It's rude to stand a girl up._

He chuckled, his eyes glinting in amusement. It seemed he'd have to go after all.

Thus, at 2:55 he checked into the waiting room, and at 3pm sharp Sakura appeared to escourt him to the exam room.

"I thought there was usually a longer wait in these places," he said absently.

"I just came off lunch," she shrugged and shot him an annoyed look. "Then again, perhaps your memory is failing you. It's been so long since you were _here_ last."

Ibiki just smirked, making Sakura's scowl intensify.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," she glared at him. "It's important to keep on top of your health. And your subordinates have been following your shoddy example. That fracture Hawk had shouldn't have gone unnoticed for so long."

He frowned as she closed the door behind them and drew the curtains. She had a point.

Still, he wouldn't admit it.

He sat on the bed as she prepared her equipment, and she shot him a glance.

"Perhaps you've forgotten the procedures, since it's been so long, but I'll need you to take your shirt off," she said, wheeling the blood pressure machine over.

He obeyed, watching her carefully for her reaction.

Part of the reason he hated this so much was due to the medic's usual responses. Ten times out of ten they'd flinch, seeing the scars littering his body. Infected cuts and burn marks, all kinds of old wounds marred his skin. And sure, medics would come across each kind of these on other patients, but never so many in one place. And when it came to the screw holes in his scalp, it made pretty much everyone scared.

But Sakura surprised him by acting with professional efficiency, her eyes not lingering anywhere nor avoiding contact.

In her defence, she'd had long enough to become familiar with his file before he'd even turned up, and was fully prepared for every one of his scars.

Wrapping the tourniquet around his upper arm, she pumped it up, took three readings and jotted down his findings, before moving to take his heart rate and temperature. She tested his eyesight, range of movement, and gave him an inch by inch inspection, using her chakra to scan his system where her eyes could not.

"Your ribs out," she informed him, before pressing on his back, clicking it back into place. "I don't even want to know how long that's been like that."

She scribbled down a few more notes on her clipboard, before returning to her search.

"And you have some scar tissue on your lungs that could become hazardous. Not to mention your cholesterol is starting to block up the veins around your heart," she scowled at him. "I'll get rid of that now, but you should watch your diet. Don't eat greasy foods."

She pumped her chakra into him, dissolving the blockages.

"I'll deal with your lungs after I figure out what _else_ is wrong with you," she growled in annoyance.

Ibiki was actually surprised. He tended not to think about his internals, only paying attention to them if he was in pain. But apparently there were some silent killers after him that _weren't_ ninja.

Finishing up with his internals, she inspected his shoulder, which was covered with the warped skin of several ugly scars.

"The muscles here are damaged. Do they give you any pain?" she asked, gently testing them.

He shrugged.

"They tense up sometimes, but it's not a big deal," he answered carelessly. "A little pain now and then doesn't bother me."

"Yeah, well if they get _too_ tense, they can cause spasms that will cause inflammation, and possibly damage your shoulder – _and_ your spine, due to the placement. It could severely hinder your range of motion, and even paralyse you if you pushed it too far," she said seriously, and his eyes widened. "I want to schedule you in for reconstructive surgery. I can fix it permanently, all you have to do is _turn up._"

"How long will it take?" he asked.

"Depends what else is wrong with you," she said. "It'd be good to fix everything at the same time and get it over and done with. But your shoulder alone – the surgery would take approximately two hours, and the recovery time would be about a month."

"I don't have time at the moment," he frowned.

"You don't have _time_?" she hissed. "To get something _fixed_ that might otherwise be the _death_ of you?"

"We're busy," he insisted. "With Akatsuki on the move-"

"I _know_ things are busy," she frowned. "But you can freaking _delegate._ These injuries won't go away. If anything, they'll just get worse."

Ibiki scowled.

"Just finish the exam."

"This isn't over," she huffed, but continued.

She checked his reflexes, and moved to his hands.

"Gloves off," she ordered, and he peeled them off, the leather clinging to his skin. Once again, he watched her for any reaction.

But wordlessly, she picked his right hand up, and began examining it, scanning it and bending his fingers gently back and forth.

"They're a bit stiff," she frowned. "Make a fist."

He did so.

"Any pain?"

"No."

"Hmm."

She continued her inspection, frown etched on her features.

"The hands are usually the first thing to go," he said, and her eyes snapped up to his.

"What?"

"It's why they're so bad," he explained. "In torture, you usually start with the hands. You save the other body parts for tough nuts."

"I'll file that away for party talk," she raised a brow, and gave him a smirk. "You must be a pretty tough nut."

He smirked back at her, and she shook her head.

"Men," she laughed lightly, before focusing back on his hand. "The veins here, here and here have healed badly. I want to heal these as well, but you'll have to wait for surgery."

She made a few more notes on her clipboard before picking up his other hand and repeating the process.

"This one's just as bad," she sighed, sitting back and giving him a stern look. "Morino, did you know about this?"

He stared back at her.

"Not the extent of it," he admitted. "Medics have checked me out in the past, but I passed their tests. If it's not broken, don't fix it."

She scowled.

"These _are_ broken," her scowl intensified to a degree that any lesser man would wilt. "You are _not_ healthy. You're _ANBU_, damnit. You shouldn't just _pass_ the tests. You need to exceed them."

The older man frowned.

"I'll come in for surgery after things quiet down."

"Things will _never_ quiet down."

He looked away.

"Take your bandana off," she ordered.

He obeyed.

She scanned his skull, her chakra seeping into his flesh and sending warm fuzzies through his brain.

She started swearing beneath her breath, examining him on a molecular level.

"Your brain is going to rot."

"Wh-What?" he blinked.

"Your skull is cracked in three places, and although there have been patch jobs, it's never healed through completely. Your screw holes," she glared at him. "Have not been looked after well _at all_. When you have a shower you need to dry them out. Thoroughly. The moisture in there is ruining your skin, and soaking through the layers. You're lucky you don't have a brain disease already."

He paled.

"_That_ will be the first surgery," she crossed her arms. "I don't know _how_ it's gotten this far... I'm seriously going to chew out everyone who has _ever_ worked on you."

He gulped.

"Pants off," she growled. "Now."

As awkward as he was feeling, her tone made him comply. He was a little concerned at what she'd find.

He stripped down to his underwear, and she examined his legs and feet just as thoroughly, pointing out that his left kneecap was also in desperate need for attention.

"Underwear too," she ordered. "At the rate things are going you'll be lucky if you don't have prostate cancer to boot."

Although this was a standard exam, he had to admit this was the first time he'd actually been through it. Usually, his attending medic would pass over it, intimidated by his glares. And he was in no rush to reveal _those_ scars to anyone.

But now it seemed unavoidable.

And she was anything if not thorough.

Besides, he didn't want to die from prostate cancer.

"Ibiki!" she growled, shocking him with the use of his first name.

"Y-Yes?" he gulped, fearing the worst.

She pointed to the scar where one of his testicles had been ripped off.

"You never got that healed properly," she accused. "It was obviously infected for a long time."

He looked away awkwardly.

"Do I have cancer?" he asked warily, trying to sidetrack her.

"I'm still getting there," she grumbled, and began to feel him for lumps, scanning him with chakra at the same time.

He twitched visibly at the contact, and forcefully thought of Gai naked to keep himself from reacting, as warm waves of chakra pulsed through him.

He swallowed nervously, for once unable to control his reactions, as Sakura finished up and moved away.

"You don't have cancer," Sakura informed him, binning her gloves and scratching down more notes.

She looked up at him after a few moments.

"You can put your clothes back on."

Within seconds he was once again fully clothed and presentable.

"I want you in for surgery in the next week."

Ibiki winced. He wasn't used to being out of control.

"I might not be able to make it within a week. I'm b-"

"Don't tell me you're busy," she cut over him.

"I'll come in as soon as I can. Are there any temporary fixes in the mean time?"

"Nothing else will _fix_ it," Sakura said in exasperation. "I can help most of your injuries with physical therapy if they seize up, but your _skull_ needs serious attention. And your shoulder should be fixed as soon as possible as well."

"I get it, I get it," he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

She sat next to him and let out a tired sigh.

"You know I'm just trying to look out for you, right?" she asked. "That it's within your own best interest to go through with it."

"Hai, hai," he agreed. "But it's just not a good time. It's held for this long, it will be alright for a while longer."

She scowled. "I'll find a way to get you in here."

"Speaking of which, you have a letter for me."

Sakura eyed him in annoyance.

"I should hold onto it until after your surgery," she threatened, but reached into her pocket and handed it over nevertheless.

"Arigatou," he thanked her. "I'll see you again soon, Sakura-san."

He spent the next three months avoiding her – a fact which had the pinkette seething.

She tried to once again hold Idate's letter hostage, but he just broke into her house and stole it.

Another two months after that passed, with Sakura making as much trouble as possible for him, flooding his inbox with useless forms and junk mail, and waylaying his ANBU, keeping them on bed rest for far longer than necessary, but he still managed to evade her.

It wasn't until Tiger, one of the ANBU she was more fond of, told her that he had seen Ibiki limping slightly that she stormed into his headquarters.

"Haruno-san," the guardsmen greeted her warily – they all knew her, and they all knew her temper, after all. "You are not permitted-"

"Shut the _hell_ up, and take me to that _freaking idiot! Channaro!_" she shouted, making them wilt.

They led her hesitantly through the maze of hallways, before she thrust open the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges.

Ibiki's attention snapped to her, his expression spelling death.

"How _dare_ you lead unauthorized personnel in here," he growled to his subordinates.

"Take it up with them later," she slammed the door on the two terrified ANBU, marching up to glower at the much taller man. "Right now you have business with me."

"You shouldn't have come here," Ibiki growled, still furious, but she cut him off, thrusting a piece of paper in his face.

"I wouldn't _have_ to come here if you'd have just come to _me_," she yelled. "By order of the Hokage, I'm now allowed free access to _every_ area of the village, be it your _office_ or your _house_."

He glared holes through the document until he was sure of its authenticity, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

He turned and sat down in his chair once again, gesturing to his desk.

"See this stack of papers?" he said tiredly. "I'm not kidding when I say I'm too busy. I have to sort through all of our intelligence on every threat to the village. And Akatsuki isn't the only monster out there."

"Delegate."

"I _can't_," he hissed. "All of my subordinates are busy with _other_ things I've already delegated to them. This is confidential information – if there was a way to get through this any quicker, don't you think I'd do it?"

She grimaced.

"You hurt your leg."

"It's not that bad," he insisted. "It's just a bit stiff."

"Let me see it," she demanded.

"Sakura, I don't have time for this," he groaned tiredly.

She crossed her arms and looked him up and down.

"You've got a headache," she said. "And you haven't been sleeping. Or eating."

"And you came to these conclusions how?" he scowled.

"Colour of your skin," she said, and walked over to him.

He slammed a folder shut, and made to get up, but she put her hands on his shoulders and forced him back down.

"What-"

"Just sit," she instructed him. "I'll fix your headache. It'll take five minutes and improve your focus."

He looked rebellious for a second, but slouched in his seat with a sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just do it."

She whipped off his bandana and started a therapeutic massage, letting her chakra seep into his brain and release the tension. He found his tense muscles relaxing as drowsiness came over him.

Leaning back into her touch, he let himself enjoy the feeling, postponing all thoughts of stress until he once again opened his eyes.

Keeping to her word, the massage lasted five minutes, and the second her chakra dissipated, he felt a sharpness of mind he'd been lacking most of the day.

She replaced his bandana, tying the knot firmly, before sitting herself down on the floor next to him.

He gave her a curious look.

"I'm taking a look at your leg, whether you like it or not," she said stubbornly. "I can't see what's in your papers from here, so keep reading if you like."

With that, she untied the bandages around his shin and rolled his pant leg up to above his knee.

He opened a folder and started to skim it, but kept an eye on Sakura as she worked on his knee, occasionally stretching it out, giving it a thorough massage.

Three folders later, she rolled his pant leg back down and replaced the bandages. Finally, she stood and gave him a moody stare.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she said softly, unable to speak with much bite.

"Arigatou, Sakura," he said sincerely.

She shook her head, and pulled out a slip of paper.

"Not that I doubt you know it already, but this is my address," she said, handing it over. "I'll be home after seven. Come whenever you finish here. I want to check your other injuries as well. I can make them hold for a little longer."

"Sakura, you don't have to-"

"I'll have some food for you as well, so don't worry about cooking dinner," she stared at the pile of paperwork. "I know I'm notorious for overworking myself, so this may be hypocritical, but... if I don't see you tonight, I'll be barging my way back in here again tomorrow, and every day afterwards until I know you're looking after yourself."

Ibiki shook his head.

"You are a gutsy little spitfire," he said in dry amusement. "And yet you look like a kitten."

"Even kittens have claws," she reminded him with a pout, and he laughed tiredly.

"That they do," he agreed, standing up slowly. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

He tested his knee out, finding it as good as it had ever been, and grinned.

"Are you a medic or a magician, kitten?"

She elbowed his side roughly, and he ruffled her hair in response, before slinging his arm loosely around her shoulders and escorting her to the door.

"See you later, kitten," he said, giving her a little shove out the door.

"Soon," she corrected him sternly. "I'll see you soon."

He just grinned at her and returned back to his office to once again wade through his paperwork.

Despite her doubts he _did_ turn up that evening, and she didn't even have to wait that long. Ibiki felt a little bad for ignoring her – and he _was_ grateful for her ministrations earlier that day. _Particularly_ the fact that she'd gotten rid of his headache. He was able to go through twice as many reports in the few hours after she'd left than he had managed all morning.

Not to mention he was hungry.

And he wasn't disappointed. A large plateful of stir fry awaited him, and he dug in eagerly.

"I'd visit you more often if I knew this was waiting for me," he told her around mouthfuls, but she just frowned, watching him eat in silence.

He wasn't immune to her mood, but he tried not to let it affect him. It was ridiculous that this young wisp of a girl could make him feel so guilty.

But he wouldn't let her manipulate him – if anything, it would be the reverse. He could swallow his pride and apologize, so she'd (hopefully) stop being so bossy and moody, but she wouldn't push him into surgery until he was good and ready.

He finished scarfing his food, and Sakura collected his plate and put it in her dishwasher, before pulling a folding massage table out from next to her fridge, setting it up in the middle of the room.

"Take your shirt off, I want to check out your shoulder," she told him, pointing towards the table. "And lie down on your stomach, face in the hole."

"Why do you have one of these in your house?" he asked curiously. "You sure this is professional?"

She shot him an annoyed look.

"It started with Kakashi," she explained. "You know, his aversion to the hospital. Now a lot of people come straight here rather than the hospital on my days off. Just those on my shortlist. ANBU too. I'm surprised you didn't know."

He blinked. So was he.

"Guess I've been busy," he shrugged.

"That's your excuse for everything."

"So... Tsunade-sama knows about this?" he confirmed.

"Yeah. I told her about Kakashi and she was the one to advise me to include the others," she said, fetching her massage wax from a draw. "She gave me a raise, and looks after my supplies, since this is now basically an extension of the hospital. And I'm on call 24/7."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Seems I'm not the only one who's been busy."

"And now you know why I don't like that excuse," she smirked. "Shirt off. On the table. Now."

He obeyed, and lay down, a little unsure what to do with his arms.

"Just let them drop," she said, guiding them to the ideal position. "Now, just relax. You can go to sleep if you want. It's been a while since I last saw you, so I'm going to give you a full work over."

Although Ibiki doubted he'd be able to fall asleep in such a vulnerable position, he was proved wrong within the next twenty minutes, as she eased his tense muscles.

She managed to patch him up fairly well, and even thickened the skin in his screw holes, making his skull a little more stable. She worked for three full hours, and by the time she was finished Ibiki was in a deep slumber.

A little amused, she lifted him with her monstrous strength, and took him to her spare room. She took off his shoes and unlatched his kunai holster from his leg, placing his belongings on the chair next to the bed and tucked him in.

The absolute ridiculousness of the situation struck her as she realized just _who_ she was tucking into bed like a child, and she allowed herself a smile. Nobody else could claim to have done _this._

Ibiki had been thoroughly embarrassed the next morning. It had taken him a while to realize just where he was, as he looked around the sparse furniture of the room, quickly putting on yesterday's clothes.

He heard movements in the next room, and figured it was Sakura going about her morning routine.

He opened the door and headed into the lounge/kitchen, unsure if he should leave immediately or hang around to thank the pinkette for her hospitality. Honestly, he'd never really been in a situation quite like this before.

He was spared from deciding, however, when Sakura emerged, fully dressed and ready for the day.

"Ah, you're up," she greeted him, before eying him critically. "Ah... Sorry, I forgot you don't really know how things are around here, come on."

She led him back into his room where she opened up the draws, revealing folded standard jounin uniforms.

"You're a bigger size than most that come through, but I probably have something for you... Ah ha!" she flung a long sleeved shirt at him, followed by a pair of pants, before opening another draw and fishing around pulling out a large pair of underwear. "Keep the undies, I only keep new pairs in here. Hygiene."

As she shoved the draw shut and walked over to the cupboard, he noticed a smaller set of draws with labels on it: "Kakashi", "Naruto", "Sai" and "Yamato".

"Your team stays here often," he surmised.

"Thought I said as much yesterday," she said, flinging a towel at him. "Go have a shower, it's the room next to this one."

He watched her for a second as she went to the bed he'd just made and stripped it, tossing the dirty sheets in a hamper at the end of the bed and re-making it with fresh ones.

"Get moving, Ibiki," she told him. "I doubt your paperwork is doing itself. You gotta get it _done_ so I can book you in for surgery."

Motivated enough, he obeyed.

He showered and dressed quickly, being sure to thoroughly dry out the screw holes in his scalp. He prodded them curiously – they felt a little different. The skin was thicker.

He smirked. He really owed that girl, as pushy as she was.

Emerging once more, he was greeted to the sight of her eating breakfast.

"Plates are in the bottom cupboard, cereals in the top, milk is in the fridge: surprise surprise," she said, barely glancing at him.

"Thanks," he said, rummaging around in her kitchen. "Ninja-O's?" he asked incredulously.

"Yamato likes them."

He noticed there was a large range of food in here, most likely tailoring to the various tastes.

"I don't buy all of them," she answered his silent question. "The guys who spend more time here bring over their own stuff."

"Ah," he said, pouring out a bowl of muesli for himself, taking a seat across from her.

They ate in silence, until they were disturbed from the front door opening.

"Sakura-chaaaan, I ran out of food at my house so I'm stealing yours!"

"Whatever," Sakura replied as her ex-sensei entered the room.

"Ma... Gomen, I didn't realise you had company," the copy nin eyed Ibiki critically. "What brings you here, Morino-san?"

"Confidential," Sakura replied for him. "Same as everyone else every other time. Now stop being such a child and do your damage. But if you don't clean up after yourself this time I'll knock you out and give you a sex change."

Shrugging, he proceeded with his kitchen raid muttering about the disrespectful youth today.

Since that day, at Sakura's insistence, Ibiki had come in whenever he had issues, and at least once a month for a good massage – giving Sakura a chance to check him over. It irritated her to no end that almost seven months had passed, and he had yet to schedule his surgery.

But things only seemed to get busier.

And that was how she found herself sitting on her bed with one of the most feared ninja of Konoha, massaging his hand.

"I'll make a bargain with you," she proposed, gaining the older man's attention. "When you're in rehab after your surgery – then I'll go on a date with you."

He groaned.

"That could be a long way away," he all but whined. "I could take you out to dinner on Friday."

She shook her head.

"Kitten, I don't have time."

"If you have time for a date, you have time for surgery."

"A date doesn't take months to recover from."

She let her forehead thud against his shoulder.

"I'm too tired to argue right now," she told him tiredly, flopping down on her bed.

"Usually people save this bit until _after_ the date," Ibiki said, grinning cheekily.

She swore at him.

"Am I really wearing you out this much?" Ibiki asked, beginning to get a little concerned. She was _really_ grumpy.

"Piss off."

He put a hand to her forehead, but her temperature was normal.

"I'm tired, not sick."

"Must be time for me to return the favour then," he said, leaning over and pulling off her shoes. "You're always looking after everyone else, after all."

He stripped her down to her shirt and shorts, and tucked her into bed, before going to collapse on her spare bed for the umpteenth time.

"Silly kitten," he muttered, before dozing off himself.

AAA

R&R


End file.
